


Black Scales and White Wings

by clovers_n_shrooms



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Creature Inheritance, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Lucius Malfoy Being an Asshole, M/M, Multi, Nobody is Dead, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-24 00:14:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30063711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clovers_n_shrooms/pseuds/clovers_n_shrooms
Summary: When Draco comes into his inheritance, things just don’t seem to go right for him.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley, Millicent Bulstrode/Pansy Parkinson, Neville Longbottom/Blaise Zabini, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 1
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> MAJOR TW FOR SELF HARM

All he knew was pain. 

It consumed him, ripping through his entire being, as if he was being resculpted by an invisible creator. He knew exactly what was happening, but it didn’t make the pain any more bearable. It was midnight on June fifth, and Draco Malfoy was in the middle of a creature inheritance. 

House elves rushed all around, attempting to douse any flames before they spread too far. Above him, his mother was watching with worry, and his father was standing cooly by her side. The pain worsened. Draco knew the flashes were coming soon. 

The flashes were the trademark of all creature inheritances. They showed you visions of your mate’s eyes. How they would look at you the previous day, how they would react seeing you in pain, and how they would look at you in the future. 

The pain began to crescendo in his body, focusing at his back where his wings would be. From the day he turned five, Draco had been told what he would become at eighteen. It was in his blood to become partially phoenix. To find his mate. To be a strong Malfoy patriarch. The pain continued to rise, and then it happened. 

The first, a flash of angry green eyes, tanned skin, unruly black hair, and a _lightning scar_. Harry Potter was his mate. Before he had any time to process the thought, the second vision hit. Potter — Harry — augh! Whatever. He was looking at Draco with pity and worry. And then, nothing. A mere streak of green and tar, blurred together, impossible to separate. 

It was over. The pain began to subside, the flames retreating into his body. Beautiful pearlescent ivory wings reached out from behind him, encircling him. From the inside of them, Draco could sense his mother return to the doorway where his father stood. 

He was ruined. Draco Malfoy, once a confident heir was going to be reduced to nothing but a stain on the Malfoy name. He knew he was done for. A _male_ submissive on the great pureblood line of Malfoy. That was unheard of. 

“Draco,” his father said, breaking him out of his thoughts, “Do you know the nature of your bond?”

Draco could see through the thinly veiled question immediately. His father just wanted to know whether he’d be a disgrace or not. “He’s dark,” Draco whispered, and a heavy silence took over the space. “You,” his father said in a dangerously low tone, “are a disgrace to the Malfoy name. A submissive? And no less to another man?” his father paused overtaken by his own rage.

“Get out.” His father enunciated the words almost like a curse. 

“Lucius just think for a second—“

“GET OUT!” his father screamed, cutting his mother off. 

With that, Draco opened the nearest window and leaped from it, before straining his newly formed wings by flying out of the Malfoy manor. Tears streaming both from pain and rejection, draco began to fly aimlessly. But the stress was too much for his weak wings, and he began to fall to the ground, everything going black. 

  
  


x x x

  
  


“Sir?” 

Draco was roused by a hand shaking his shoulder. He opened his eyes to see a woman with her hair braided into rows looking down at him with worry. 

“Sir are you all right?”

He stared for a moment before realizing where he was. A muggle town. Lovely. “Erm, yeah sorry. Do you know where the nearest… hospital is?” Draco stumbled through his words. 

“Seems like I should take you there,” the woman responded with a concerned look. 

“I don’t have money to pay you though… nor the hospital.”

The woman smiled with soft eyes. “No need for that, come along.”

Making his decision, Draco grabbed the woman’s arm and let himself be guided from the place he fell. 

At the hospital, he was immediately told to sit in a chair and wait, and the muggle mediwitches began speaking to the woman that brought him in a hushed tone. “What’s your name dear?” was the only question they asked him. The rest had been handed over to the stranger that had taken him here. Draco was indignant that he was not allowed to speak for himself, but he was so, so tired. So tired that all he could do was begin to doze. 

  
  


x x x

  
  


When Draco awoke again, he was somewhere new. It reminded him of the hospital bay, but this time there were _needles in his arms._ Draco swiftly pulled on the tubes, managing to rip quite a few of them out before a horrible beeping noise came out of the machines beside him. Someone who looked very similar to the other muggle mediwitches ran over to him and began to restrain him. 

“Sir this equipment is not hurting you, it’s keeping you alive, please calm down.”

Draco stilled before curling himself into a tight ball and unfurling his wings to shield himself. 

“Put those away! There are muggles here! Are you _trying_ to get yourself killed?”

Draco retracted his wings, sitting up board straight and staring wide eyed at the woman. “You’re a witch!” he sputtered out in surprise. 

“Squib! Now stay there, I need to transfer you to St. Mungos immediately,” she said, moving quickly to get everything she needed. 

“Wait!” Draco panicked, “I don’t have any money, muggle nor wizarding. My parents put me out of the house after my inheritance.”

“Doesn’t matter. Mungos will pay your bills if you’re homeless. Unfortunately there are no wizarding homeless shelters, but there are quite a few muggle programs that can provide you with a house.” While explaining this, the woman had moved draco to a wheelchair. The squib wheeled him outside for a bit before finding him a spot in the hospital’s gardens to call the knight bus. 

“Where you have to go?” Stanley asked in his strong Cockney accent. The nurse pushed by him, getting Draco’s chair situated before turning to Stanley with a firm expression on her face. 

“He is homeless and sick. He can’t pay you. Just take him to St. Mungos, he needs immediate care.” Stanley widened his eyes before glancing at draco concerned. “Right away ma’am,” he replied before sitting at the chair and beginning to drive. The bus twisted and turned, squeezing itself between narrow alleyways and over cars. Draco looked out the window at the passing cars, filled with shame at the prospect of never being able to pay back these people for their kindness. 

“St. Mungos! Er— can you walk?”

“If he could walk why would he be in a wheelchair?” A small head above the wheel quipped. 

“Right, sorry. Here,” Stanley said, seeming a bit embarrassed. He grabbed the back of the wheelchair Draco was sat in, and wheeled him to the entrance of St. Mungos. 

“Right well erm—“

“Thank you.”

Stanley smiled. “Not an issue. Now ‘ere comes a mediwitch, I best be getting back to my bus.” With that, Stanley left, gently jogging to the space where his bus was. 

“Mr. Malfoy? What brings you here today?”

“I...I’m not exactly sure. I was flying, and then I fainted over a muggle town, and I went to a hospital , a squib said I needed care immediately though,” Draco said, feeling rather woozy. 

“My goodness Mr. Malfoy,” the mediwitch paled, “I’m surprised you’re still alive, much less conscious.” The witch muttered a spell before wheeling him to a nearby room, where another healer was already waiting. He was transferred to the bed in the room before being questioned by the healer. 

“Why did you use your wings so much?”

“I was put out of the house for being a submissive creature straight after my inheritance.”

“And what creature are you?”

“Albino phoenix.”

“Do you know your mate’s creature and nature?”

“Serpent, and dark.”

“Do you know who?”

“Yes.” 

“Do you wish to inform them of your visit?”

“No.”

“Who is your mate?”

“Harry James Potter.”

Silence spread over the room. “You’re sure?” the healer whispered. Draco nodded. The healer resumed work, yet avoided his eyes the entire time. “Spread your wings please,” the healer said timidly. Draco gently unfurled them from his back, only now noticing the cuts and missing feathers. The healer gently wrapped them in gauze as Draco let out cries of pain. 

“You’ll be let out in a week.”

Both the mediwitch and the healer turned out of the room. It was only then Draco realized how tired he was, and how much the short trip had exhausted him, and he fell into a deep sleep. 

The days after that seemed to be spent in a daze of sleep, and before he knew it he was discharged from Mungos. As soon as he was released, Draco went to Gringotts to claim what little money he might have left. He patiently waited in line; ignoring the glares and sneers sent his way. “Mr. Draco,” the goblin said, “What can we do for you?”

The fact that he hadn’t been addressed as Mr. Malfoy was enough for Draco. His parents had disowned him. 

“Did my parents leave me any money?”

“Just enough for school supplies. it was your mother’s idea.”

“Oh.”

Draco had hardly thought it would be that little. 

“Thank you.” He nodded at the goblin before turning out the door. It was heartbreaking his parents cared about him that little. The world blurred as tears collected in his eyes. Draco apparated to the small muggle town he had gone to the hospital in. He would have to apply the program the squib had told him about. But where was it? He spotted a sign on a nearby pole that read “LIBRARY”, and an arrow pointing right. Maybe he could get some information there? It was the best option he had, the only option really. So he turned right, letting his feet guide him. There was someone at a desk, one of the only people not absorbed in a book. “Hello?” Draco asked shyly. 

“Yes?” 

“I was wondering if you had any information about the erm,” he paused, trying to remember the term the squib had used, “Homeless program?”

“The application office is three streets over, on 3416 Cobble Lane.”

“Oh thanks!” Draco forced a smile, trying to seem as cheerful as he turned out the door and tried to figure out where the hell Cobble Lane was. 

3416 Cobble Lane was exactly 3 sections of sidewalk over and 9 doors to the left. He placed a sweaty hand on the doorknob and turned it, holding his breath. 

“Hello!” Someone greeted from behind a desk. 

“Erm hi,” Draco pushed the words out of his mouth. It felt like he had rocks in his stomach, like his tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth. “I’m here to apply for the housing program,” from the way it was said, you could’ve thought he was asking a question. Draco cringed, flushing with embarrassment. 

“Oh, just fill these out please.” Their eyes crinkled kindly, almost sympathetically as a huge stack of paper was placed on the desk. Draco’s eyes went wide. Dear Merlin, he would be here for hours. 

“Well it looks like you meet all the requirements Mr…?”

“Just Draco.”

“Draco. Now this here is your room key. Until you find a job, rent will be free,” The worker smiled easily at him. He tried to do the same, half of his mouth awkwardly turning up. “Your starting groceries will be up by four pm. Please call if you need anything!” They shook hands with Draco, grip surprisingly strong for their shorter stature. Turning to his new home, Draco tentatively reached out, grasping the handle and pushing it open. He took a slow step inside the door, almost waiting for someone to wrench away this shelter from him. The lights shuttered on. It was a small room, simple and plain, the bare minimum. But it was his.

Draco flopped onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. The worker had said something about jobs. What job could he even get with such meager knowledge about the muggle world? Maybe he could ask the muggle who had been working at the desk. They seemed kind. 

And so he did. Draco made sure to follow instructions perfectly. He was even nice to the interviewers, no matter the fact that they were muggles. He had been given something called a telly-fone by the worker at the desk who was the good sort of muggles, he decided. The places of work were supposed to use the telly-fone to alert him of his hire, but he never got any response. He had come back after looking for a job day after day, but still nothing. He didn’t want to be a muggle anymore. Draco wanted to be back in the wizarding world, get a job there and live here, but no one would hire him. Not when he had the dark mark. But a voice came to him. the most helpful voice he had ever heard. 

_“You should cut off the mark.”_

It was brilliant. Cut off the mark and he would be free! He ran over to the kitchenette and grabbed a knife, the sharpest one he had. Raising the knife up, he went down at an angle. Starting at the edge closest to his wrist, he began to saw off the skin that had the mark. blood poured out the sides, running and smearing over his arm in a dark ruby. With one last excruciating lick of burning pain, the thin layers of skin slid off his arm and hit the floor with a slap. The room began to swim, small blurs clouding the outside of his vision. he grabbed the gauze from under the counter, wrapping his wound tightly with it. He felt a rush of elation. It was off! Draco was floating, his heart high in his chest. 

He grabbed his wand, scorgifyging the blood from the floor. As soon as it healed be could get a wizarding job! for the first time since he presented, Draco felt truly happy. 

When we woke up the next morning, he was surprised when he finally had an acceptance to a job. _Well,_ be thought, _it will do for now_. He started tuesday, next week. A plan was beginning to form in his mind. 

Step one, work at the muggle place until the skin heals over. 

Step two, go back into the wizarding world and get a job. 

Step three, save enough money to not require ‘Saint Potter’ for his every need. 

Step four, make a new name for himself, and never _ever_ let Potter figure out that they’re mates. 

It was brilliant. and he would succeed, one way or another. 

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

He was in so much pain. And so, so confused. 

It was midnight on July thirty first, and something was happening to Harry Potter. 

Luna was dabbing at his forehead with a cool cloth. Everyone else had been kept downstairs. 

The pain worsened. what was happening?

He had been having his birthday bash with his friends, staying up until midnight to celebrate the moment he turned eighteen. Instead of celebration, he had collapsed with pain, and had to be transferred upstairs. 

The pain began to crescendo, pulling, seeming to rip at the skin on his back. 

Merlin and Morgana, he had just wanted a normal year. What was happening to him? And why did this situation sound so familiar?

The pain felt as though it may kill him. 

A moment of clarity swept through Harry’s fogged mind. Neville. The same thing had happened to the other boy just a night earlier. So that must mean… 

The pain crashed over him, and then he saw a pair of eyes, just as Neville had described. 

The first vision, a flash of glittering silver eyes, accompanied by pale skin and near white hair. A beautiful androgyny of features it seemed, but something in his heart told him it was a male. His mate was looking at him with a practiced expression of coldness, but the eyes gave away something more. They held such softness, a deep love, but also fear. 

The second vision held the same appearance, but tears were flowing over his mate’s lashes. The eyes he saw held such oceans of pain, of deep despair. Harry ached at the sight, his instincts screaming at him to do something, to comfort. He reached out, trying desperately to grab at the other, to protect his mate. 

The last vision came to him, and Harry’s stomach dropped. A deep scar ran through one of the silver eyes, clouding it over. Despite this, there was an unguarded feeling to the expression he saw. A gentleness was in them, and his mate’s happiness was not hidden behind any mask. Harry’s mate must have accepted him then. The elation he felt at that realization was starkly overshadowed by the knowledge that his mate will get badly hurt, even when Harry was trying to protect the other. 

It felt as if his stomach was filled with lead. He hadn’t been able to protect his mate. As the dominant creature between them, it had been his duty to protect the other. 

“Harry? Are you alright?” The sound of Luna’s voice shook Harry from his thoughts. 

“I… I end up failing him. My mate.” 

“Now’s not the time to worry about that, your body needs rest.” Luna pushed him down into bed, tucking the covers around him. As his back brushed the sheets, Harry noticed a different feeling on his back. He sat back up, and turned to peer at his back. He gasped, seeing that erupting from his spine were dark scales, the black and emerald merging with tanned skin. The rich tones a striking opposite from the opal wings of his mate. 

A knock sounded from the door. “Pup?” Remus opened the door slowly, Sirius following closely behind. They rushed over to Harry’s side. Sirius had wet lashes and puffy eyes, while Remus had his brows furrowed, mouth firmly set into a frown. 

“We were so worried, Merlin, you’re not hurt are you? Did you hit your head as you fell? Did you—“

“Siri, cmon, slow down.”

“I’m okay,” Harry soothed, “Apparently I have creature blood. And my mate — he’s beautiful.”

“But there hasn’t been a creature in the Potter family for several generations, this doesn’t make sense,” Sirius rambled, loosening the grip on Harry’s hand. 

Remus and Sirius were both creatures, and mate’s at that. It made Harry feel more secure, knowing they had gone through the same thing as he had. 

“Sirius, It doesn’t matter how it happened. As long as he’s happy,” Remus smiled softly, glancing at Harry to reassure him. 

“I am. I’m really happy,” Harry beamed, “He almost looks like an angel, with how pale his wings are.” A dopey smile appeared on Harry’s face. The other two looked at eachother, chuckling as they remembered that James had looked the exact same when he had fallen for Lily. Harry yawned, exhaustion from his inheritance finally catching up with him. “Do I have to see everyone tonight?”

“Of course not, you get to bed, I’ll get everybody else out of the house.”

Remus turned out of the room, gently closing the door behind him. Sirius gave Harry’s hand one last squeeze before following Remus, flicking the lights off behind him. 

Harry leaned back into bed, drained from the craziness of the night. He was nearly asleep when he heard shouting from downstairs. 

“What do you mean we can’t see him? He’s my best mate!”

The sound of Ron’s voice filtered through the floor. Harry internally groaned. He was too tired to see anyone else tonight. Heavy footsteps started up the stairs, before suddenly a thud sounded. 

“REMUS WHAT THE HELL?”

Harry chuckled.  _ Thank goodness for Remus _ , he thought, before heading off soundly to sleep. 

x x x

For the next week that Harry was recovering, Ron came by daily. Most of the time Harry was sleeping, and the other times Sirius had been stricter than Madame Pomfrey, letting the two boys visit for a very short period of time. When Ron wasn’t around, Remus consoled and listened to him about fears he would fail to protect his mate. Harry could feel that his mate had come into his inheritance, but it didn’t make sense. 

Based on the visions it should have been obvious who he was, the lightning scar on his forehead would’ve been clearly on display. Why wasn’t his mate contacting him? He felt hurt. Harry wanted nothing more to just ask them why.  _ Why won’t they contact me? They obviously know who I am.  _

Harry tried to puzzle out what could be stopping his mate from reaching out to him. Through the bond the other should have been able to feel when Harry went through his inheritance. A sharp clack sounded at the window, breaking him out of his thoughts. Around the claw was a roll of cheap paper, singed at the edges, but scrawling words were unaffected.  _ Harry, _ the elegant writing, full of narrow loops and thin letters. 

_ I can’t tell you who I am. You would reject me. I still love you with all my heart, even though you may never truly love me.  _

_ Love, _

_ Your Mate _

Had his mate been able to hear that thought he had focused for so long on? And how could he think Harry wouldn’t love him?

Harry would love his mate no matter what. No matter their blood or involvement in the war, as long as they have seen the wrongs of their past actions. 

He had to prove it to them. Harry knew that if anything was publicized, he would come to anything, let alone send another letter. Even if Harry sent a letter, there was no guarantee that his mate would read it. Maybe, if he focused again, he could get another message through. 

Shoving away all other thoughts, Harry tried to push through another message. 

_ I will love you no matter who you are. Even if you were on the other side of the war.  _

Cracking open his eyes, Harry flopped on the bed. getting messages through was hard work. He laid there, straining to listen past the silence that wrapped around him. 

_ You wouldn’t if you knew my name. What I did to you.  _

Harry’s heart dropped, chest feeling pained. His mate had such a deep self hatred rooted inside that it hurt. It hurt Harry deeply to see his mate so broken. If the other refused to let Harry see him, then gifts were Harry’s only option. Anything that his mate needed, anything that money could buy. 

Stretching up, Harry got out of bed for the first time in days, filled with determination to get many gifts for his mate. He slipped on a shirt from his dresser, only to find it skin tight. His shoulders were pushing at the seams, when before the shirt had fit loosely on him. Harry tried to pull on his jeans, but they were several inches above his ankles. It seemed like he would be buying himself new clothing too. 

“Remus?” Harry called. 

“Yeah?” 

“Can you bring me some of your clothes? Mine are too small.”

Harry heard some shuffling, before Remus gently opened the door. He took one look at Harry before bursting out in laughter.

“Your — your pants! And shoulders! Pads, you gotta see this!” 

Sirius came out of his bedroom door, peering over at Harry before losing it as well. Harry snatched the clothes from Remus, face reddening. He slammed the door, leaving the two older men laughing on the other side. 

He shucked his old clothes, pulling on Remus’s borrowed ones, to find that they fit.  _ Wow _ , Harry thought, surprised he had become the size of Remus overnight. 

His previously shorter build had heightened and broadened proportionally, showing the nature of his inheritance. He stepped out of the room and went down the stairs where he heard the sounds of gentle conversation. Sirius was sitting at the table with Remus, both sipping cups of tea. 

“Kreature made food for us. Eat, and then we’ll go get you some clothes. Merlin knows you need some.”

Harry looked at the eggs and toast, before inhaling them. After giving the fake locket to Kreature, the elf had started making much more delicious food, keeping Grimmauld Place much cleaner than before. 

“Right,” Harry chirped, rather cheerful at the prospect of giving something to his mate, “Can we go to a muggle shop?” For some reason, he felt his mate needed muggle clothes, and he knew the kind of store they would like. 

The bell of the small boutique rang as Harry, Remus, and Sirius entered. Harry had let his instincts guide him to the shop, and judging by the clothing inside, his mate was fashionable. He dragged his hand across each rack, stopping when something popped out at him, and adding it to the pile of purchases. Most of the things had muted and neutral colors, with a few brighter things sprinkled throughout.

The pile of clothes was high, probably costing a small fortune. One of Harry’s favorite items was a large sweater that was his size, but was far too big for his mate. It would look adorable on the smaller of the two, softly swallowing his form. 

_ Wear it first! _ Harry’s creature called.  _ Make it smell like you,  _ it told him. If the idea of his mate in an oversized sweater was cute, then the idea of his mate in one of  _ Harry’s  _ sweaters was a fatal blow to the heart. Looking at the time, the three of them purchased everything before running to another store to get harry some clothes. 

x x x

As Harry was returning home, he felt a sharp pain in his arm. He pulled it close to him, curling his chest around it. Sirius darted over to his side, as Remus ran off somewhere else. Both adult and teen watched as Harry pulled up his sleeve, blood streaking over his arm. On the inside of his left wrist were 5 horizontal cuts, all bleeding heavily. Blood began to drip down his arm and onto the floor, several drops landing on his shoes and pants. Remus returned with bandages and gauze, wrapping and cleaning Harry’s arm. 

Harry tried to jump up, pulling at the arm that Remus was wrapping. 

“Remus, I have to help him! Let me go!”

Harry was clawing at the hands holding his wrist, but the man had a strong grip on him, and Sirius was pulling him to the couch. 

“Harry.” Remus’s cool, calm voice broke him out of his panic momentarily. “Hey. Calm down. Your mate isn’t in danger.”

Harry looked at the other, puzzled. Why else would his arm be bleeding?

“These wounds look self inflicted. He probably isn’t in immediate danger.” 

Harry deflated a little, going silent. He had a million things going through his head.  _ Why would he do this? Does he not know I can feel this pain too? _

Mechanically, Harry pulled himself up and to his room. He didn’t notice the weight of the bags he was holding, or the way his fists were tightly clenched around the handles of each one. 

He sat there long enough for the room to get darker, losing sun from the window. Rising from his thoughts, Harry opened up the bags that sat at his feet, pulling out each item of clothing that was for his mate. He folded each item carefully, laying them all in a box with a gentle hand. 

Grabbing his quill, Harry scrawled a short note on a bit of parchment.  _ My Mate,  _ it read,  _ You gave me a proper fight today. I know you want me unaware of your name, but that doesn’t mean I don't care for you. Stay safe.  _

_ -Harry _

Placing the note on top, Harry put the final touches of tape and ribbon on it before calling for the owl that was kept in Grimmauld Place. He hoped the package made it safely, given the owl only had a thread of magic and hope to follow. Harry also hoped the other boy would actually wear a gift from him.


End file.
